


Whatever Will Be

by ColtsAndQuills



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:54:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColtsAndQuills/pseuds/ColtsAndQuills
Summary: Based on the request: Imagine being Dean's daughter and you and Castiel fall in love.





	

The first thing you did was to make sure that your father’s guns, ammo, blades, talismans and other assorted lethal knickknacks were out of reach.

Over the past years, Dean’s hair has gone grey at the temples, fine lines have marked the passage of time along his eyes and mouth, and he’s suffered a limp on damper days thanks to a bullet unloaded by a friend.

Nevertheless, anyone in the business knows that the hunter’s reflexes work just fine, especially when motivated.

Today might be the kind of day that he was motivated.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Castiel asks. 

Strong arms embrace you from behind, and you feel the familiar touch of a five o’clock shadow brush against the back of your neck.

You breathe deep. Cas’ warmth, the sweet and wild scent he carries on his skin, could calm you even in the worst of moments. 

“He’ll find out eventually. Better that we come clean, don’t you think?”

His lips move against your skin in what you imagine to be a frown.

“That’s easier for you to say. He won’t try to kill _you_.”

Broad hands slide to the small of your back as you spin about to face him. Usually, Cas is pretty good at keeping a stoic face. For the moment, however, he’s sporting that familiar deep crease between his brows.

“Come on! Dad wouldn’t kill you. In a way, you’re already like family to him.” 

“Once, maybe. But that was long ago.” You hate the sadness that colors his eyes, a momentary darkness behind the blue that’s beyond your reach. 

Cas had left after the worst of times— that much you had gathered from the stories you overheard throughout the years. By the time he returned, you were already well into your teens. You could still remember the look on your father’s face the first time he saw him. In even more detail, you could recall the look of wonderment Castiel wore when he first saw you.

“He’ll remember.” You press your lips to his, trying to coax a smile out of him from behind the kiss. “It might take a little convincing, but he’ll remember.” 

It almost works. The corner of his mouth begins to make a soft turn upward, one of his hands now in your hair, fingers at play, drawing you closer, when he suddenly goes still within your arms.

You know your father is in the doorway behind you without even looking. 

“Whatever I’m being reminded of better be pretty damn good if you want me to forget this.” 


End file.
